


Ocean Breeze

by Miso



Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Foreplay, M/M, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 01:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10322414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: Everyone greets the day in their own way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OW MY HANDS. This started out as a short fic about Floyd using yoga as a coping/recovery mechanism but then whoops my hand slipped directly into porn. Set about 30 years after SCTV ended, so 2014-ish. Also set in the same timeline as "Snowmageddon," but not "A War He Can't Forget," though there's similarities (Vietnam didn't fuck Floyd up so badly in this one). I just really love these two actually having a really sweet and caring and healthy relationship despite everything. Let my sad awful boys be happy.

_Deep breath. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Close your eyes and feel._

The words of various yoga instructors at various rehabs and psychiatric facilities echoed in Floyd's mind as he sat cross-legged on the deck of his Key West home. It had been a long, long time since he'd been in any facilities like those. May as well have been ancient history. Sometimes he wondered what happened to the people he'd met in those classes. Most of the older women were probably dead now- it had been 30 years, after all- but sometimes he'd remember a young mother or another person struggling with addiction or a mental health issue that was younger than him. Hell, there was a 15 year old kid in one of those places that heard voices and had tried to jump off the roof of his house that Floyd had taken under his wing for a while. Maybe he should look that kid up. Everyone and their dog had a Facebook or Twitter page now, anyway.

He took a deep breath- in through the nose, out through the mouth- and through the protests of his aging joints and tired bones forced himself into the warrior pose. The main problem was his hips. Getting old took it out of you, he supposed, but fuck, he should have been able to hold a simple yoga position without much pain. It had only been a few weeks since he last did this. There was no way he got that rusty that quickly.

For a solid minute, he remained in that position. The pain faded from screaming protests to a dull ache, and Floyd took another deep breath and let himself feel. The early morning sun was warm and gentle on his skin, a cool ocean breeze rustled the palm trees, and the distant calls of seagulls and the lap of the waves against the beach provided a hushed and calm soundtrack. Most of the world was still asleep. This was perfect.

His foot found its way to his inner thigh and he balanced, however precariously, on one foot with eyes closed. His joints no longer ached. Whether they'd just given up or if they'd gotten accustomed to it, he wasn't sure. But slowly, surely, and surprisingly painlessly, he worked his way through a few more poses. His mind went blank as he balanced himself in the downward-facing dog. Peace. Peace and calm. Maybe Swami Banananda hadn't been completely full of shit all those years ago. Just mostly full of shit.

Floyd had just about shut out the entire world, when behind him, he heard a voice say, "You know, if I topped, I would be real interested in the view right now." He opened his eyes and was greeted with a view of Earl's legs and bare feet through his thighs. Floyd sighed a little and righted himself, stretching himself out catlike one last time. "Awww, I was just starting to get into it."

"Shut up, Earl," Floyd mumbled, as he returned to the world around him. "You broke my concentration."

"Or I stopped you from falling asleep and landing face-first on the hardwood." Earl smiled and wrapped his arms around Floyd's waist, kissing him on the cheek. "Good morning."

"How long have you been up?"

"Not long. I noticed you out here and thought I'd come tease you a little."

"You're insufferable."

"That's not what you said last night." Earl nudged Floyd in the ribs gently. Floyd, for his part, rolled his eyes and gently elbowed Earl off of him. "Awww, come on, cranky boots, I'm just messing with you."

"I know, I know." Floyd leaned against the wooden railing and was quiet as he took in the view. A series of palm trees swayed in the breeze nearby and the ocean was just barely lit up by the rising sun. He would have gone out on the front porch and enjoyed the sunrise, but the front of their bungalow faced a road, and one that tended to be busy in the morning. "... Can you believe this is our life now?"

Earl smiled, standing beside Floyd and leaning into his side. "Sometimes I can't."

"I always figured I'd be dead before 50."

"I always figured we'd break up eventually."

"I always figured we'd be stuck in Melonville forever."

"I always figured you'd be behind that news desk until you croaked."

"How long are we gonna keep doing this?"

"Until it isn't funny anymore." Earl laughed softly as Floyd elbowed him gently. "You're grumpy this morning."

"I'm always grumpy. It's my thing." Floyd smiled despite himself and wrapped his arm around Earl's shoulders. He pressed a kiss to Earl's temple, and glanced down at the golden ring on his left hand. God. Sometimes he still didn't think this was really his life. "How'd I get you to marry me?"

"You had a handsome face and a nice butt and that was all it took." Earl smirked at his husband and leaned into him more. "You know how. You're not as much of an unlovable asshole as you think you are. You never have been."

"You're just saying that, doll."

"No, I'm not." Earl was suddenly serious as he pulled Floyd into an embrace. "You really are better than you think. You've had ups and downs, but... god, with what you've been through, it's a miracle you weren't worse. Look at yourself. You're married. You're retired. You're stable. You aren't drinking." Earl gently cupped Floyd's face in his hands. "And... well, I'm happy. Are you?"

Floyd brought a hand up to cover Earl's. He smiled, a real, genuine smile, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." He took Earl's hands in his own and gently pulled them down from his face, pausing long enough to press a kiss to Earl's wedding ring. "I am happy."

Earl smiled back, pulling Floyd back into a warm embrace. "I thought so."

"I am happy," Floyd repeated, softly, almost like he couldn't believe what he was saying. "I'm... god, it's you. It's all you."

"Flattering," Earl interrupted, blushing a little, "but give yourself some credit, Floyd."

"No, I... I mean it. I never would have gotten sober without you. I never would have seen a therapist without you." Floyd kissed Earl's forehead. "I never would have gotten married if it weren't for you." His nose. "I wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for you." His cheek. "I owe you so much." His other cheek. "And I love you. So much."

Finally, their lips met. It started as a gentle peck, nothing more than a token of affection. Then Earl leaned into him, and Floyd's tongue found its way into Earl's mouth, and then his hands crept underneath Earl's shirt and gently removed it. The pair briefly separated for air a few times and to get their shirts off, but at least right now, Floyd could swear that his life depended on Earl kissing him, touching him, proving to him that yes, he loved him, and this wasn't all a dream or a sick joke his mind was playing on him.

Earl let a soft gasp slip as Floyd moved down to kiss his neck and his hands slipped under the waistband of his pants and gripped his ass. "Floyd... Floyd, babe..." Earl gently nudged his partner away. "Not here."

"You're such a prude," Floyd mumbled. All the same, though, the idea of being spotted by a jogger or, worse, one of their incredibly sweet elderly neighbors strolling onto their deck was something of a nightmare, and Floyd removed his hands from Earl's pants to open the sliding glass door to their bedroom.

"That's more like it." Earl smiled and removed his last remaining article of clothing besides his glasses, reclining on the still-unmade bed naked as the day he was born. Beautiful. Floyd turned to shut the door, but stopped when Earl interrupted him with "Leave it open."

"... You sure?"

"No one can see us in here. Besides, it's already hot and the breeze is nice."

Floyd smirked. He wanted to say something, wanted to make a dumb joke, but... no. Not the time. Next time. Right now he had something far more pressing to attend to. Namely the hard on tenting his shorts and the very naked and very aroused man in his bed. He'd always heard getting old was supposed to turn your sex drive down a few dozen notches. He wasn't complaining that it hadn't.

He shed his boxers as he approached the bed and lowered himself atop Earl. Their lips met again, hungrier and more desperate, as they tangled their legs together and let their hands roam. They knew each other well by this point. Each had every bit of the other memorized. They were a little different now from when they were younger men. A little bit softer, a little grayer in a few places, looking their ages a bit more. But not by much, they had to say. Father Time had been unusually kind.

Floyd delighted in the soft moan that escaped Earl's lips as he brushed a hand over his inner thigh, just a ghost of a touch a little ways away from where he knew Earl wanted it most. He'd be begging if he kept this up. He'd always loved to hear Earl beg. He was cute when he squirmed and panted and pleaded. "You look so fucking cute like this," he whispered into Earl's ear, smirking when he trembled and wriggled beneath him. "Remember when we first started working together? Hm?" Earl nodded and bit his lip, squirming just as Floyd had predicted in an attempt to bring his hand into contact with his cock. Floyd inched his hand further away in response, and Earl whimpered in protest. "I heard you at the Christmas party that year," Floyd whispered, his hand now gently moving over Earl's knee and pulling his legs further apart. "You were drunk. One too many Grasshoppers. You were talking to LaRue, and I heard you tell him how much you wanted me to bend you over the news desk and fuck you until you couldn't walk."

Earl shuddered and swallowed hard. He had vague memories of that. Almost 40 years, and Floyd, of all people, was the one who had been sober enough to remember it. His fingers moved to Earl's entrance and very gently, agonizingly so, brushed over it. Earl squeaked softly and arched a bit. "Floyd..."

"Shhh." Floyd's touch left that delightfully sensitive spot and traveled north. He cupped his balls delicately and delighted in the gasp and soft cry this earned him. Still just a little shy of where Earl really wanted it. Good thing he had more stories to recall. "How about that time you sucked me off under the desk? We could've been caught any moment. But you begged, didn't you? You begged and pleaded and you swallowed every drop when I came in your mouth." The memory was enough to make Floyd's cock twitch. _Not now. I'll pay attention to you in a minute._ Earl was trembling and near insanity. "You loved that, didn't you? That little thrill from knowing we could get caught."

Earl nodded, gripping at the blankets as Floyd again avoided his cock, instead opting to run a hand over his stomach and chest reverently. "Stop teasing me, you fucker!"

"I'll tease you as long as I want." Floyd smirked and just barely touched Earl's cock. Earl groaned and bucked his hips in response, desperate for more friction. "You like it. Don't act like you don't. You wouldn't be this hard if you didn't like it." Floyd withdrew his hand and kissed Earl softly, biting his lower lip as he pulled back. Earl's noises of protest and need were so cute. "Remember that time we did it in the storage closet? You couldn't be quiet."

Oh, god. One of Earl's fonder memories, he couldn't lie. He whined softly and forced back the urge to reach down and touch himself, even as his cock throbbed, like it was pleading for someone to pay attention. "I... I remember..."

"I know. You bit my shoulder the entire time so no one would hear you. I swear you almost took a chunk out of my jacket." Floyd lowered himself atop Earl and rocked his hips slightly, their straining erections rubbing against each other and wrenching an adorable peep from Earl. "You made cute noises like that then, too. And when we got home we did it again and again and again..."

"B-best anniversary ever." Earl smiled, then shuddered and clung tight to Floyd. "Oh, my god, Floyd, stop teasing me... please..." There it was.

"That's what I wanted to hear." Floyd reached for the lubricant stored in the top drawer of his bedside table and slicked his fingers, pressing two into Earl with practiced slowness and precision. He licked his lips at the sight of Earl opening his legs and letting out a noise that sounded like a cross between a desperate moan and a relieved sigh. Nice.

"How do you want me?"

"God, does it look like I care at this point?" Earl was panting, his limbs still trembling and a pinkish flush spreading over his face, neck, and chest. "I just... I need you." He groaned and tipped his head back as Floyd's fingers brushed over _that spot_ , the spot he wasn't sure had a function besides inducing mind blowing orgasms, and he clutched the sheets again. "Floyd, please, god, just...!"

Floyd withdrew his fingers and slicked his cock, gently rolling Earl onto his side and taking position behind him. He prodded, gently, at Earl's opening, but didn't bother teasing more as all this earned him was a desperate "Please!" and he was getting pretty worked up himself.

The low "God, _yes_ " Earl let out as he sank into him was almost enough to send Floyd over the edge then and there. Managing to keep himself together, he moved slowly, as Earl gripped the sheets and panted softly. They always liked this position. The sheer amount of skin-on-skin contact and touching they could do made up for not being able to see each other as well as they normally liked.

"Hey..."

"Nnh, what?" Earl whimpered and reached down to stroke his cock in time with Floyd's slowly-intensifying thrusts. Floyd gripped Earl's hand and moved it away from his length, and Earl whined in protest. "Floooooooyd..."

"Don't whine." Floyd nipped the back of Earl's neck, as a tremor ran through him. "I just wanted to ask you something."

"God, y-you're making small talk now?"

"Why do you leave your glasses on?"

There was a pause as Earl moaned and panted, rocking his hips back against Floyd's, and then answered. "B-because it's way less hot to have sex with a blurry blob."

"Mmm, we can't even see each other like this."

"No." Earl gave Floyd's hand a quick squeeze- their little universal signal for 'stop'- and pushed him onto his back and moved atop him as soon as he got the opportunity. "But we can like this."

Floyd licked his lips and smirked, gripping Earl's hips gently. "You're smarter than you act, y'know?"

"That's not saying much, Floyd." Earl steadied Floyd's cock and sank onto him with a low moan. Floyd growled quietly and dug his fingers into Earl's hips hard enough to leave bruises. Even if no one could see them, they were a nice little way to mark his territory.

They moved in tandem, synchronicity achieved over decades of lovemaking. Earl's head tipped back as his orgasm built, hips rocking desperately. In response, Floyd snarled and grabbed those bruised hips again, holding him still, and began thrusting, deep and hard. He watched as Earl's eyes went wide for just a second before he fell forward slightly, catching himself by placing his palm against the wall and holding himself up. "Fuck, Floyd," he whispered, biting his lip and crying out sharply as Floyd hit his prostate again. Earl's glasses were foggy, but Floyd knew that those gorgeous chocolate eyes were shut, as every muscle in Earl's body tensed. Floyd did love watching him come, but god, he couldn't risk the neighbors hearing with that door open. He gently removed Earl's glasses.

"Look at me."

Earl opened his eyes, nearly black with desire, and stared into Floyd's. "God, you're so fuckin' gorgeous," Floyd mumbled, pulling Earl in for a kiss, just in time to muffle a garbled cry as wet, hot droplets spattered his stomach. Floyd kept thrusting as Earl came, pounding it into him in an effort to blow his mind. It had been too long since the last time he'd turned Earl into an inarticulate mess.

Earl groaned and shuddered as his body turned to jelly, and he flopped atop Floyd with little fanfare. Floyd managed to nudge him up to at least balance on his knees, then kept going, relishing the cries and gasps of pleasure he wrenched from Earl. He felt the knots in his stomach tighten. "I'm close," he whispered, just enough to be heard over Earl's breathing. "You want me to pull out?"

"N-no, no, don't..." Earl whimpered softly. "S-stay in..."

He needed no further encouragement. Just that desperate little plea for him to not pull out was plenty. Floyd groaned and tensed as he spilled inside his husband, barely hearing Earl hiss softly over the static in his brain. Earl lay atop him for good this time, and they remained like that for a few minutes, panting and feeling a bit ethereal. "... Good?" Floyd managed to ask after a few minutes of rest. Earl nodded and kissed Floyd's chest.

"R-really good."

"Mmm." Floyd smiled and wrapped his arms around Earl's shoulders. They lay together, silent except for their breathing and the ocean breeze rustling the trees outside.

"... How long has it been since we had sex first thing in the morning?"

"Too long," Earl answered. "I could go for that more often."

"Yeah. Me, too." Floyd kissed the top of Earl's head gently. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Round two."


End file.
